Birds of a Feather
by strixx
Summary: Bonnie and Twill are two textile factory workers from District 8. After an attempted rebellion, a week of lock-down, and then finally a disastrous factory explosion, the two are forced to run away to a last hope: a certain District 13, and the rest is history from there. (on a half hiatus; it'll get done, but progress is extremely slow.)
1. Chapter 1

**Here's the summary again, for those of you on a mobile: _Bonnie and Twill are two textile factory workers from District 8. After an attempted rebellion, a week of lock-down, and then finally a disastrous factory explosion, the two are forced to run away to a last hope: a certain District 13, and the rest is history from there._**

**So I've decided to give a little background story to Bonnie and Twill, because they don't get as much mentioning as they should.**

**Oh, and one _huge_ thanks to xsuchsweetnothingx, my betareader. You're wonderful. Thanks to Zias as well, for bringing a couple of mistakes to my attention.**

**Aaand as of 2/13/14, I've gone and re-wrote this whole story, just so you all know.**

* * *

><p>Roben stands at the kitchen sink, beneath the spotlight of a single light bulb, tapping his foot as he washes dishes almost mechanically. He can see that the skies are getting dark, and he can almost sense the panic that's beginning to creep up at the edges of his mind as if it's a tangible thing.<p>

He couldn't help but wonder, where is she?

He heaves a sigh, letting the plate he's scrubbing for the past five minutes clang back into the basin. Soapy hands clutch at the edge of the counter. He counts to ten in his head, takes deep, slow breaths, but that still doesn't work.

Twill does have two jobs to uphold, but he couldn't remember her ever being this late in the past.

Being a factory worker himself, Roben knows the schedules; he knows that her shift had ended about an hour ago, at seven. He knows that she would never go anywhere without telling him first.

He knows that she's fine, because isn't she always fine?

No no no, no, not always.

The tension in his shoulders melt away when he hears the familiar click and groan of a door opening then shutting from the front of the house.

He stays in place with his hands clutching onto the counter top, head bowed as he hears her light footfalls approach from the hallway.

"Peacekeepers holding you up?" He asks, listening to the way her shoes click on the floorboards as she makes her way over to the kitchen table and places something down. Listens as she comes up right next to him to rub soothing circles on his back. Feeling the way her hair tickles his forearm when she props her chin up on a shoulder. It's comforting.

"No," she says quietly, now tracing patterns along his shoulder blades. "But I got something for the both of us."

That catches Roben's attention.

He turns around, eying up her gleaming smile. "What?" His stare soon wanders over to the table, where two Peacekeeper uniforms are neatly folded and placed next to each other, then gives his wife a confused tilt of the head.

"We still need the shoes, but-"

"Wait, you... We're... going to be _Peacekeepers_?" He questions, the crease between his eyebrows deepening more and more.

Twill's smile only grows brighter. "Roben, we're gonna run away. We're gonna spread word of the rebellion!" She beams to her dumbfound husband. She traces the wrinkles creasing his forehead, wordlessly studying his face and kisses him.

She takes his hand in hers, gives it a tight, reassuring squeeze.

Silence falls. He can hear the ticking of the clock in their living room as the seconds pass.

"That wasn't part of the plan," Roben says at length.

"It's new, I know, but we can pull it off." When he doesn't respond, her smile wavers. "Hun, you can travel the world, just like you've always wanted," she says half-heartedly.

Even so, there's just too much room for error, and it sets him on edge. "At what cost? We'd be dead before we could even get over the fence."

"Not with those on." She alternates glances between her husband and the white and blue uniforms. "No one will notice with the uprising in full-swing."

Roben sighs, because she _does_ have a good point there. "Thursday, right?"

"Yeah, that's the plan." The district rebels have been planning this for months, since the 74th Hunger Games had come to its, _unique_ conclusion.

"And you're sure this is going to work?" He gazes into the warm, light brown eyes of his wife. Twill is probably single-handedly the most optimistic person he's ever had the pleasure of meeting. She's the bright spot on his rainy days.

"Positive." She says it with such conviction, and it makes him smile.

So he realizes that it's kind of a stupid question to ask. Of course she thinks that this plan of hers is going to work.

He may not fully agree with it, but then he looks at her again, really looks at her. She seems to passionate, so willing, so honest. That's when he decides that he would go through with it, if only for her.

He wraps his arms around her brings her close. "You don't think this is dangerous?"

"Oh, I do," she replies instantly, pulling away from her husband to look up at him. "But this will be our time to fight back. We can't just pass it up, who knows when the next uprising will be?"

Roben knows that she's right. He knows that she's thought every step through, and there isn't any good reason for him to be so wary.

Then he thinks, even if District 8 has some pretty lenient Peacekeepers milling about, that doesn't change the fact that it's their job to stop and prevent uprisings. They're supposed to keep the _peace_, and there couldn't be any _peace_ in Panem with a rebellion going on.

Yet, with all that confusion and panic swarming around them, the real Peacekeepers would be too preoccupied to notice two more suits slip past the fence.

And then Roben remembers a moment from about a month back, and everything makes sense.

* * *

><p>Twill had came home with one of her students for a tutoring session; a sweet little girl named Bonnie, and Roben just so happened to get in on a piece of their conversation.<p>

_"Well, Jamine told me there's a rip in the bottom of the fence near the library..."  
><em>  
><em>"How big is it?"<br>_  
><em>Bonnie's reply came after a few seconds of silence, "Big enough for you."<br>_  
><em>"And my husband?"<br>_  
><em>"Uh..."<em>

By that point, Roben had gone to a different part of the house and tried to tune them out. Any rebellious or treasonous words could be overheard by the wrong pair of ears, and if that happens... Well, let's just say it's not something he likes thinking about all too often.

* * *

><p>Roben just sighs and hugs her tightly. "Okay."<p> 


	2. Chapter 2

It is Thursday, or, otherwise known as the day that _their world would be changed forever_. You know, no big deal.

He doesn't even know what to expect from it. The very thought sends his stomach roiling; almost makes him want to go back on his promise to Twill and just forget any of this ever happened.

He has to wonder why they can't just continue living the way they are. It's relatively safe, it's easy.

But then there's also the bad points. The fact that their once-free nation is now being ruled by a bunch of psychotic control freaks, that they can't leave their designated district, that if they were to have kids, they'd be subject to a sick and twisted televised event _for entertainment_.

Twill wants to dismantle that. Though as nauseatingly dangerous as their plan is, and with all the possible room for error, he still couldn't say no to that face. He just couldn't find it within himself.

He couldn't convince himself that everything is going to turn out all right, either.

With every thought that crosses his mind, every idea that's sparked, he just couldn't seem to find a way to make the plan fit the puzzle.

But Twill is so sure, so confident that everything is going to go exactly how she plans it.

She's an incurable optimist, and it's that very optimism that scares him the most.

He sits there idly toying with his lighter. He doesn't even smoke anymore, but he's about ready to give into the temptation just for the hell of it. Why not, right? It might be the last chance he gets.

There's a light rap on his open door, and he turns around to find Twill standing there.

They just stare at each other for a couple seconds before she strides over to him, folding her hands over his own, plucking the lighter from his grasp.

"You know how much I hate those things," she begins, a soft smile spreading across her face as she reaches for the pack of cigarettes on the desk. She takes one, holds it in her mouth as she lights it up.

Roben chuckles humorlessly. What the hell; lights one up for himself, slowly exhales the smoke.

Twill walks around to the other side of his chair, and just when he thinks that he would feel her comforting arms wrap around him, instead, a quick, loud clicking sound startles him just a bit.

Morning light floods in from the window. Roben turns his chair in the opposite direction and shields his eyes with a displeased groan.

"Robby, you have to get up, it's time to go to work," she coos, leaning against the window, tapping her cigarette over the open sill.

He sighs and unwillingly lifts himself from the chair. "Time?"

"You have half an hour."

At least it gets him moving; he's already closing the bathroom door by the time Twill catches up with him and calls out, "Hey, I need a shower, too!"

Roben rolls his eyes.

* * *

><p>By the time they're heading for the door, about to leave for work, they've both got their Peacekeeper uniforms (now complete with shoes!) tucked safely away in a bag in one hand and a coffee cup in the other.<p>

They stop in the middle of the hallway, and Roben's turned solemn. Worry has been pecking away at his thoughts non-stop since the morning began, and it physically pains him to think that they might not see each other by the day's end. "I just want you to be safe."

She intertwines their hands. "Don't worry, Roben. We'll be fine."

He gives her a half-hearted grin in return. "I hope so." Then the two step out the front door hand-in-hand, and he breathes in the morning air. "I love you."

Twill reaches up for a kiss, and when they force themselves away, she pulls a smoldering look. "I love my men in uniform."

Roben's still laughing by the time he gets to the factory.

* * *

><p>So the two went about their daily routine, nothing out of the ordinary.<p>

Twill teaches her class. They're on an important history unit right now, learning about how Panem came to be.

She may or may not have slipped in a few words about what life was like _before_. Ask any of her students, however, and the answer is a definite no.

Roben makes textiles. He fixes loose screws, untangles the thread from the machines, piles the textiles as they're made. All the same menial labor. When he passes by one of the larger machines that spews smoke every hour of the day – he couldn't tell you what it's for if his job depended on it – he notices an odd ticking noise.

He doesn't bother to bring it up, though.

Almost immediately after his shift ends, he puts the Peacekeeper uniform on under his clothes. Nobody suspects a thing.

While he's chatting around with some buddies by the water heater, it happens. They hear a commotion outside. Pretty soon a wide-eyed co-worker appears around the corner, urging them to leave, _now_.

He bolts through front doors of the factory to find the uprising in full-swing.

They move in waves, harsh waves of fire. Pure spite being fueled on by a large screen in the main square, frozen on an image of President Snow.

People are yelling angrily.

Children are crying.

Garbage and rotten food are being thrown everywhere.

Peacekeepers are being consumed by the mob of angry citizens left and right.

A harsh voice roars over the intercom.

In unison, the mob defiantly screams back at it.

Now the children cry louder.

People scream increasingly obscene threats.

It's absolute chaos.

Roben scans the enraged crowd, anxious, his stomach doing a frankly_ impressive _circus performance.

When he finds his wife, she looks like she's on a mission; she's searching for him amidst all the fury and hatred. She's like a buoy in the middle of a storm, he thinks absently.

They gravitate toward each other, they end up in the middle of it all, and he grabs her by the shoulder. "We need to leave, now," he yells over the storm around them. Determined, Twill nods her head.

They shed their top layer of clothes, exposing the peacekeeper uniforms underneath. This time the two move along with the crowd. With the way the storm's headed, the library with the rip in the fence is only a couple hundred more feet ahead.

Swimming in the rocky currents of people, they let the riptide pull them along without struggle. Only a hundred more feet to go.

So close...

Then the harsh currents of people are being flooded from the opposite direction. A whole separate entity of white and blue is aggressively pushing against them. They're Peacekeepers, the real deal, flooding in by the hundreds, set to get the mob under control.

After more loud protests and more garbage being thrown in the Peacekeepers' direction, the screams of anger quickly turn into gasps of horror.

They shoot into the crowd.

Loved ones fall, bleeding. Neighbors, daughters, sons, parents, teachers, co-workers; they all fall. One after the other, they drop to the ground with a sickening thud.

Roben turns to find Twill bent over, wailing and pressing down hard on a little boy's wound. One of her students.

It breaks his heart.

Then a woman - whom he is assuming is the boy's mother - drops to her knees next to Twill, tears streaming down her face, trying to talk over her sobs. Twill looks absolutely heartbroken as she gives the woman a kiss on the cheek, then bends down to cradle the boy's head in her hands, giving him a kiss on the forehead as well.

Even after the mother has gripped her child into her arms, Twill stays there on the ground with her shoulders shaking.

He bends over, hugging her trembling body close. "Come on, Twill." He tries pulling her to her feet, but she collapses against him. "It's all right, he'll be all right. We just need to get home."

He isn't quiet sure how they make it back to their front porch, let alone find the right key and unlock the door. But they do, somehow.

With the sound of terror-stricken friends and neighbors' screams still filling the air – this time accompanied by loud sirens wailing in the distance and bombs exploding – they lock their doors and sit on the couch, frozen in fear.


	3. Chapter 3

The hammer has fallen hard on district eight, that much is clear.

It's been a week. One long week of lock-down. Their lives are being put on hold; all imports of food and coal are put to a dead halt. Peacekeepers practically line the streets. Whole families starve, and even more freeze without a fire to keep them warm at night.

There are occasional broadcasts shown on every television in the district, depicting the hanging of supposed suspects.

But perhaps the worst part of it all is the fact that they had been ordered to remain in their homes under the penalty of death.

Yeah, that has to be the worst part yet.

Over the past couple of days, Twill's morale seems to have been shattered with the latest defeat. She's been quiet, closed-off, no longer the joking little bright spot on his rainy day.

He couldn't blame her.

So they take on the lock-down day by day.

They watch television that _doesn't_ involve public execution, they come up with a rationing system with all the snacks in the pantry, they figure out dinner, they play board games, they dance, they have some quite heated debates, Roben helps Twill plan out her next lesson, they smoke, they cuddle under a pile of blankets for warmth, they listen to the radio turned all the way up, they close their curtains and decidedly ignore the Peacekeepers marching up and down the street.

They don't talk about how badly her plan failed.

They don't talk about the consequences that are now biting them in the ass, hard.

They don't talk about the little boy.

It speaks for itself and they both know it.

* * *

><p>When the lock-down is finally revoked and life seems to catch back up to speed again, Twill's charming demeanor finally makes a reappearance.<p>

With the cupboards newly restocked, clothes freshly washed and a fire warming the house, things seem to _almost_ fall back into place.

Of course there's still the threat of the Peacekeepers constantly breathing down their necks.

As if to add insult to injury, too, there are a few empty desks that stared back at Twill, and even more time slots at the factory that will never be scanned again.

It's a particular reminder that has families grieving, and the entire district simmering silently under the thumb of the Capitol.

One would think that this new turn of events would give the people more incentive to fight back, but with that hammer still looming over them with a heavy hand, the idea quickly dissolves into nothing more than a distant fantasy.

It's upsetting, to say the least, but there isn't much they can do about it. The Capitol has put their district under a strict lock and chain.

It's noticeable within the masses, just by the robotic way in which they walk.

A cloud of ignorance settles over the town, for now, to shield them from the brunt of the devastation that's laid before them.

For now, people would pretend that things are okay. They would turn a blind eye to those empty seats. They would ignore those un-scanned time slots.

They would forget their losses. For now.

* * *

><p>Twill's first day back at class goes by without trouble, no matter how sombre the atmosphere is.<p>

The lesson mostly consists of a brief overview of Panem's history, again, but this time focusing on the destroyed District 13 to prove an obvious point, and nearer toward the end, there's a discussion of the most recent rebellion and of the infamous fables surrounding District 13.

As the last bell of the day rings, Bonnie, with her blonde hair tied back in a braid, approaches her teacher.

The two have become even closer than before, for Twill had provided the girl with comfort when she found out that her mother had been shot amidst all that chaos.

She knows very well that she could never – and would never – replace Bonnie's mother, but for now, she's exactly what the young girl needs.

With a soft gaze down to the girl, Twill asks, "Ready?"

"Ready."

They set out for the factory, on the way to their four o'clock shift. The roads have been all but obliterated from the bombs, so they have to be mindful of where they step.

Large chunks of concrete are scattered along what remains of the road, mixing with nasty craters, and leaky, broken pipes that stick out from the wreckage.

It takes a little longer than usual, but that's to be expected. They're about half a mile away when it happens.

Suddenly, the ground shakes.

Gasps of shock come from surrounding neighbors. A loud rumbling bombards their ears as a fire bursts to life right before their eyes.

The factory.

It's blinding, and the heat is intolerable. The force of it actually sends Bonnie backwards, and a cloud of smoke hits them like a wall.

Twill doesn't even think. She just springs to action, pulls Bonnie up and rushes her in the opposite direction. Back toward her house. "We have to get outta here, we have to get the uniforms," she yells down to the girl.

They have to leave, and they both know just how they're going to do it.

Nobody knows if the explosion was just an accident, or if it was a purposeful retaliation from the Capitol, but she sure as hell doesn't want to stick around to find out.

Once when they get to Twill's house, they begin getting everything together. Raiding the pantry for food, tearing through dressers for the uniforms, digging through a bunch of things for a spare duffel bag.

The two quickly change into the Peacekeeper uniforms, wasting no time in securing their belts and tying their shoes.

Twill can't help but notice the way Bonnie is sniffling, rubbing at her eyes as she stuffs the excess length of the pants into her shoes.

It breaks her heart when she realizes that the rest of the girl's family had been inside the factory.

With a comforting arm wrapped around the small girl's shoulder, the pair head over to the library and slip their way past that rip in the fence.

"District thirteen," Bonnie declares, voice nothing above a whisper. "We can go to district thirteen."

Twill has no objections. She has her own suspicions of the district's current state, and they all sound like a very promising prospect. And, for now, there's nowhere else they _can _go.


	4. Chapter 4

Roben is gone. Her lovable, loyal husband. _Gone, _along with the rest of that factory and everybody in it. She saw it happen right before her eyes.

She totes around a stolen gun on her left shoulder and a sack of food on her right, as the two trek their way through underbrush and low-hanging branches.

They travel like that for a long time.

It takes Twill a while for the reality to catch up with her, but as soon as it does, her knees become shaky and weak.

Roben. She would never see that stupid half-smile of his again, feel his warm hand in hers, say 'I love you', hear 'I love you' back. Never again would she hear his voice or feel his reassuring presence.

And that thought is terrifying.

She falls to the ground as if she's been deflated, a sob catching in her throat. Tears streak down her face, and her fingers curl into the soil beneath her as she tries to hide her face from Bonnie, who has dropped down next to her teacher in surprise.

"Sorry, Bonnie, I'm sorry, I-I-" Twill manages to get out, but she's cut off by the little girl bringing her into a tight, warm embrace.

"Don't be sorry," she says sadly, and Twill can feel her shaking her head from side to side. She gingerly wraps her own arms around the girl, frowning.

They stay like that for some time, just thinking, kneeling, accepting the comfort that the other provides.

Both have lost everything they held dearest, literally, but Bonnie and Twill have more than just that in common; they have that certain positive outlook that so many lack.

Their optimism tends to hold true even in the worst of situations, and this is no exception.

They would find a way out, they're sure of it, and they would do it together, as a family.

They had quickly become each others family. They have no one else left, and it's like they always say, birds of a feather stay together.

Soon, Twill regains her composure enough to stand.

Their tears have dried, their minds are clear, and they are determined. They set off with new resolve, trekking through unmarked territory until the sun begins to set under the horizon.

They stop to rest, regain their strength for the night. They eat scarcely and sit close to one another, and sometime between Twill lightly dozing off and the moon making its way up to the sky, Bonnie speaks up, her voice a sleepy haze, "Do you think we're gonna be caught?"

A long silence stretches out between them as Twill turns it over in her head.

After a couple more seconds, she finally settles on a resolute, "Not if we're careful. I'm pretty sure there's a railroad somewhere around here, so we can catch a train to the next district."

Bonnie accepts it as a suitable answer, letting herself rest against Twill. They both fall asleep like that, slumped against each other.

When they wake up, it's very, very early, around three or four o'clock, they guess.

Now, they have to make it to the railroad as soon as possible.

After a decent night of sleep, with Bonnie now carrying their food supply and Twill still keeping the gun slung over a shoulder, the two continue on in high hopes.

They walk some more, until Bonnie squints her eyes, taps the older woman on the arm and points toward two small buildings a few hundred feet in the distance. "Look."

When they get closer, Twill can see two parallel strips of metal cutting across the land. A railroad, a warehouse of some sort, and a train waiting on the tracks in front of the station.

Yes. _Yes_.

They share excited grins as they approach the unnamed warehouse-looking building, even as they sneak inside, and _especially_ when they realize what they have come across.

There are boxes piled everywhere in something strangely reminiscent of a maze, work uniforms lining the walls, and small orange fork lifts parked in corners.

When Bonnie takes it upon herself to check one of the boxes, she's pleasantly surprised; the warehouse stocks prepackaged food.

They take as much as they could stuff in their bag and pockets, then gently re-tape the box and place it back where it belongs.

Their business in the warehouse is all done, now all they have to do is catch their train.

After some cautious scanning of their surroundings, Twill finds them a slightly rusted and opened boxcar, piled high with more boxes and folds of fabric alongside them. There are pink, blue, green, plaid, dotted and striped fabrics, all stacked atop and next to each other in no particular order.

The two bury themselves somewhere within those folds of fabric, and Twill thinks they're doing an Oscar-worthy job of looking like textiles.

The train screeches to a slow start, a whistle blows, and soon enough Bonnie and Twill are on the move.

Twill finds herself, on more than one occasion, raising her voice to check in with Bonnie, and even peeking her head out of the fabric to catch a glimpse of scenery.

Being runaways, there is no doubt that they'd face a terrible end if the Capitol are to find them.

As far as anybody else knows, though, they're dead, back at the site of the factory explosion.

Now they have truly begun their journey, and are rapidly on their way to a new life, still in high hopes for the outcome of their futures.


End file.
